


Strike the Slate

by vega_voices



Series: Strike the Slate [1]
Category: n Plain Sight with a hint of a very familiar CSI character.
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-10
Updated: 2011-03-10
Packaged: 2017-11-19 20:59:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/577585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vega_voices/pseuds/vega_voices
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Only later did she learn that no one had been left alive to hear her scream.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strike the Slate

**Title:** Strike the Slate  
 **Chapter One:** Chalk Dust  
 **Author:** [](http://vegawriters.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://vegawriters.livejournal.com/)**vegawriters**  
 **Fandom:** _n Plain Sight_ with a hint of a very familiar _CSI_ character.  
Timeframe: 2009 (Circa second season IPS/9th season CSI)  
 **Rating:** M is for Adults Only, though this chapter is family friendly.  
 **A/N:** Don't shoot me, shippers. This isn't Mary/Marshall. Nor is it GSR. I wanted to explore Marshall falling in love outside of Mary, and thanks to my renewed love of _CSI_ it came together. The story is, however, steeped in Mary and Marshall’s friendship as she opens up to him and he to her and they **both** find happiness. This is for [](http://siapom.livejournal.com/profile)[**siapom**](http://siapom.livejournal.com/) and [](http://kittyknighton.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://kittyknighton.livejournal.com/)**kittyknighton** who have been my cheerleaders as I put this whole idea together.  
 **Disclaimer:** I have no claim on the characters in this story. I make no money and have no ownership. I am however a starving writer and if either show needs a hand, I'm totally available.

_Costa Rica, 2009_

Night in the jungle was a cacophony of sounds and smells. Sara Sidle was used to the concrete wilderness of Las Vegas but the noise of the jungle still kept her awake. Cars and people were so different than the rustle of leaves through the trees and snakes over the ground. She found it comforting, even in her discontent.

Really, she knew, what she was missing was Gil. She’d meant what she said. She was happy and that gave him permission to move on. But she was lying if she didn’t admit that she wanted him to reach out to her, to ask her to come home. She loved him. She missed him. She wanted his arms around her and she wanted to rest her head on his chest and listen to him prattle on about nothing and everything. But she was holding him back. He’d said as much the last time they saw each other. So she stayed, tucked into sleeping bags in a tent in the Costa Rican jungle. It was her penance.

She’d email him in the morning. Just to say hi. God, she was an idiot. He loved her and she was willing to throw him out because she was still unsure as to the direction of her life.

A twig snapped outside. Sara jolted up; that was a human footstep.

“Lee?” She whispered, wondering if the team leader was on one of his nightly jaunts.

Only later did she learn that no one had been left alive to hear her scream.

***

  
_Albuquerque, NM_  
Three Months Later

The woman standing by the conference room window was, quite simply, the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen and he worked each and every day next to a leggy blonde who was the classical definition of American Beauty.

She was tall, taller than his partner, and deceptively frail despite the obvious strength she possessed. Unnaturally long legs tapered up to curved hips and a slender waist. Slender, bordering on skinny, and there were small splashes of freckles on her upper arms. Chocolate brown curls framed pale cheeks and the deepest, most haunted brown eyes Marshall Mann ever dared to get lost in. When he looked closely, he saw flecks of color in the dark orbs – greens and reds that, he had a feeling, would sparkle when she was happy. She was long and delicate and he had trouble believing she could survive the harsh life of a jungle researcher, despite being dressed the part. Cargo pants, a light blue tank top, and even Birkenstock sandals on her feet.

“Marshall Miller,” he said with his reassuring smile and firm handshake.

“Sara Sidle,” she responded in turn and then paused. “Sara Jennings,” she corrected softly, her mouth twisting around her new name. Marshall’s heart went out to her. He knew her history. He knew about the nine homes in six years of foster care after her schizophrenic mother had murdered her abusive father. He knew about the troubles at work and the serial killer who had stalked her and left her to die under a car out in the middle of the Nevada desert. He knew of the boyfriend she’d left behind in Las Vegas, the Masters in Theoretical physics, and how she’d fallen in love with forensics while earning extra money on the night shift at the coroner’s office.

In another world, he’d have walked up to her and asked her out. In this one, he was helping her change everything she knew.

For the first time in the years he’d been working with Mary, he was glad for her perpetual tardiness. Judging from the look on Sara’s face, she probably couldn’t handle the brashness of his partner.

“Let’s sit down.”

She did. She settled in one of the uncomfortable chairs and stared at the table. A cup of coffee cooled near her elbow but she ignored it.

“Given the nature of the case, the justice department actually wants you under Stan’s supervision.”

Sara almost chuckled. “It’s to keep the shit from rolling downhill, I’m sure. I witnessed American drug smugglers kill a group of researchers. I …” she shook her head. “I overheard plans. If they get me, part of the so called war on drugs goes the way of the dodo. So instead, they give me to the department head so that when I eventually get shot and killed, the very nice man who is your boss will get fired but it keeps it in-house.”

“You speak like someone who has worked law enforcement.”

Sara shrugged and almost smiled at his acknowledgement of her understanding of the system. He wanted to see her smile, to see light in her eyes. He knew it wouldn’t happen. Not for a long time.

“I’m here to make sure things go according to plan and take care of all the grunt work. My partner will also assist with the process.” The MOU waited on the table, the gate to her new life, and like with most new witnesses, Sara looked ready to bolt for the door rather than move forward. It wasn’t her fault that the research group she’d been a part of in Costa Rica had fallen into the hands of US weapon and drug smugglers. But her ability to survive made her a perfect witness and a perfect target. As far as anyone else knew, Sara Sidle was dead at the hands of rebels in South America.

She was staring at the MOU, running her thumb up and down the pages. “I never changed my name after I got out of foster care.” Her voice was small and lost. “I wanted that tie to who I was, even though I hated everything about my past. Now it’s just gone. Like it was meant to be anyway.” She raised her face and tears streamed down her cheeks. “I don’t want this. I want to be back in Vegas with Gil.”

Normally, they offered romantic partners a chance to join the program, but in Sara’s case, they needed to sever all ties. He’d personally delivered the message to her long time partner, Gil Grissom. It had been his job to sus out any security issues left over in Vegas. All he had found was a family of people that wept openly to find one of their own dead.

He’d wanted to reassure Grissom, to give the man something. Anything. He knew better. So instead he’d made a private promise to protect Sara at all costs.

“Sara, this isn’t a choice. You escaped some of the most ruthless killers in the world. Even with the reports of your death, they don’t believe for a second that you’re actually dead. If you show up in Vegas, they will come after you and they will not only kill you but anyone connected to you. You are now a liability.”

“I know. I’ve heard it all over and over again from the FBI and the CIA and the NSA and the Marshals. Doesn’t make it any easier.”

“I know.” He watched her for a moment. When she squared her shoulders, he offered her a smile. “You ready to begin?”

“Yeah.” She turned to the first page of the MOU and Marshall began echoing the words he’d said so many times he knew he mumbled them in his sleep.

Sara absorbed the instructions with few questions. The only people in the world who knew her believed her to be dead, so getting in touch with them wasn’t a problem. But when it came to occupations, she blanched.

“All I’ve ever done is criminalistics and research. I’ve presented papers. I’ve done research. People know me.”

“I did some digging,” Marshall reassured her. It wasn’t often they brought in witnesses with masters degrees in nuclear physics and her being female made her an even smaller group. “There are some research opportunities here in Albuquerque that aren’t too close to what you did before. Or, you could completely reinvent yourself. Is there something you’ve always wanted to do but couldn’t?”

Sara paused and stared at the words on the paper. “Maybe own a little book store. Reach out to foster kids …”

“We can’t let you do anything at all related to your old life. But a book store … we can see.”

Sara nodded miserably.

“You don’t have to decide right now, Sara. Take a few weeks, get adjusted to your new life.”

“How long until you start wondering why I don’t have a job?”

“For you, maybe six months. It will take about that long for all of your old financial assets to finish clearing. Because you were declared dead, there is little we can do to reclaim the possessions you left in Las Vegas. But we did recover your items from the research team and the box is at your apartment.”

“Gil won’t buy it, you know. He’ll come looking for me.”

“I gave him your death certificate, Sara. I’m sorry.” He didn’t dare tell her about how he’d watched the older man break down and sob. He’d clutched a picture of Sara to his chest and cried and cried and not even the appearance of other team members had calmed him down.

“God. He has to be a mess. First Warrick and then me. I mean … he’s shattering apart. He has to be.” Sara wiped her own tears away. “I …” she took a deep breath. “Okay. Where do I sign?”

***

  
It was like being in foster care all over again.

“Well, I’ve lived in worse.” Sara forced herself to breathe. It was a one bedroom in an extended stay motel and she didn’t have the heart to tell Marshall about how many trash runs she’d done in a place just like this.

Trash runs. The concept meant something completely different now that it was her life. How would she feel if she was found dead and the Albuquerque CSI’s labeled her case as a trash run? How many Albuquerque CSIs did she know? Was she completely doomed to bounce from city to city when someone she recognized in law enforcement showed up?

The apartment smelled faintly of bad curry and boiled cabbage and she was sure the previous occupant’s cat had peed in a corner. The couch would have to go; she could feel the bed bug infestation from the door. The mattresses, Marshall had promised, were new. An inspection of them showed the plastic coverings in place. The tub tile was cracked, but the shower was still serviceable. The carpet had stains and the fridge had a faint garlicky odor. It wasn’t Marshall’s fault and she couldn’t take her disappointment out on him. “You should have seen my first apartment in Berkeley.” The words escaped her mouth and she sighed. “I’m sorry. I know I can’t talk about my past.”

“You can to me.” Marshall shrugged and stepped all the way into the apartment. “Just … not to anyone else.”

“That’s probably against the rules.”

His smile was gentle and she felt some of the mortar of her walls crumble. “Some rules need to be broken from time to time.”

She smiled softly and set her new target-bought “bed in a bag” down on the plastic encased mattresses. In the corner was her suitcase and a small box of her possessions. Nothing that linked back to Vegas, but they had let her keep her camera and her Buddha statue and her copy of the Tao of Physics. Gil had given it to her and when she opened it, she saw the note he’d inscribed to her had been ripped out. At least they’d let her keep the book.

She missed him. She missed his big arms and his eternal scruff and the way he liked to suck on the soft spot of her neck. She even missed his passive aggressive tendencies and how he and Hank would wake her up, first thing in their morning.

She needed a dog.

“I’m going to get unpacked I guess. And get used to my new neighborhood.”

“Sara, take it easy the first few days. And keep your phone with you at all times. If I call, answer. If Stan calls, answer. If you miss the call, call us back. We need to know you’re safe.”

“Gotcha.” She let out a slow sigh and wanted the very nice man to get the hell out of her new apartment. She needed the time to herself.

Marshall nodded and left her alone. Sara sat on her plastic encased bed and started to cry.

***

“You get her settled?” Stan emerged from his office, looking tired and spent. This case was going to keep them up nights for a while. Round the clock protection details and late night meetings and being ready to whisk their witness to a safe house at a moments notice. On the witness side, Sara was in therapy to deal with what had happened to her in the jungle. No one knew exactly how she’d managed to escape her captors, but when she arrived at the consulate in Mexico, she’d been beaten and the blood was still fresh on her clothing. Medical tests indicated trauma that Marshall couldn’t even fathom.

He’d never met anyone who fit the term “survivor” as well as Sara.

“Yeah.” Marshall sighed and rubbed his forehead, the look in Sara’s eyes still haunting him. “Stan … did you ever know any foster kids?”

“Foster kids? Not that I know of.”

Marshall picked up a pen and wove through his fingers while he talked. “When I was in high school, my parents decided to try. My mother wanted to keep busy. We ended up fostering this little girl who had been so abused by her father she could barely speak. Even after she started to open up, I never forgot the lost look in her eyes. It was this mixture of relief and fear. This sense of eternal displacement. I see the same look in our witnesses from time to time and I saw it today with Sara. I was reading her file … she was a foster kid too. When she was twelve her mother murdered her father. She bounced around the system. She got out. She went to Harvard on a scholarship and finished her masters a Berkeley. Now she’s back in the system, waiting to get bounced around again. It’s like the last twenty-eight years of her life mean nothing.”

“We’ll just have to make sure she doesn’t get bounced around. It’s why you’re in charge here.”

“Thanks.”

“Brief Mary in the morning. Go home.”

“I think I’m going to go check on Sara. Make sure she’s okay.”

“You could call her.”

“You didn’t see the look in her eyes at her apartment today, Stan.”

“Fair enough.” His boss headed to the door. “See you tomorrow, Marshall.”

“Good night, Stan.”

***

The neighborhood was terrible. Marshall cursed the cutbacks that stuck witnesses in shoddy areas that were never truly safe. The hallway of the motel smelled faintly of dog piss and stale bologna. He carried an aloe plant in one hand, kept the other poised for his gun. Three knocks and he heard footsteps and Sara’s muffled voice call out for confirmation of who it was. When she opened the door, it was clear she’d been crying.

“Hey.” Marshall gave her a smile. “Thought you could use a friend.”

Sara sniffed. “Thanks. Um. Come on in.”

The room smelled of cleansers. She’d put a cover on the couch and been scrubbing the walls and the carpet looked like it had been steam cleaned.

“You’ve been busy.”

“I had to keep my hands occupied …”

“It’ll get easier.”

She took the plant and put it on the counter. “I know.” She shrugged and squared her shoulders. “Doesn’t mean I …” with a sigh, she sank into a large camping chair. He took the couch. “How did a Marshal named Marshall end up in the service?”

He chuckled and shrugged. “Family tradition.”

“What did you want to be?”

“A superhero. This comes as close as it gets.”

She smiled for the first time and Marshall’s heart leapt again. The slight gap between her two front teeth made her seem ten years younger. She tucked one knee up and rested her chin on it. Suddenly, Marshall found himself recounting every rule and regulation he knew about consorting with witnesses. But she was beautiful and he wanted her and he had to get out of there before he made a complete fool of both of them. It didn’t do him any good to take advantage of her.

Sara sighed and surprised him. “If you could do anything else in the world, what would you do?”

He smiled. “I’d like to do what you were doing – roam the world studying things.”

Again, she smiled. “Yeah. It was pretty fun.” She got up and moved to sit with him on the couch. He stared at her, nervous as a teenager, wishing he’d had the chance to meet her in any capacity but this. Gently, he took her hand.

“Sara, you are going to be fine.”

“I know.” She shrugged. “I always am.”

***

  
“Tell me why we are here again?”

“Because.” Marshall rolled his eyes at his complaining partner. Mary was whining because his witnesses were taking priority today, which meant he was driving, which gave her no control over the day.

Lately, her complaining had lost its cute factor. He wasn’t as impressed by her bitchiness. He was no longer star struck by the way she took over a room or ordered the people in her life around. He’d lost sympathy for the way she’d dealt with her family history. It wasn’t fair, he knew, to compare her to Sara, but her gentle grace was captivating.

He had a feeling Sara had once been a lot like Mary and maybe she’d just given up and accepted a place in life, but there was a peace about her. Maybe it was because of the program, he didn’t know. But the way she approached life was much more interesting than Mary’s.

Marshall led Mary up to the apartment and knocked on the door. “Sara?”

“Who is it?” He announced himself and the door flung open. Sara was in a pair of ratty jeans and a UNM t-shirt. Her long hair was up in a pony tail. “Hey!” She smiled, really smiled, and Marshall saw the flecks of color in her eyes light up.

“Hey.”

“Is this my weekly wellness check?” Sara stepped back and let them into the apartment.

The apartment was nothing like the dingy two rooms it had been two months ago when she’d moved in. The carpet had been deep cleaned, the furniture replaced with papa san chairs and a micro-fiber couch. A small computer desk held her laptop and a photo printer. The artwork on the wall ranged from mounted butterflies to sweeping landscapes. Her Buddha statue had place on a plant stand and the vine he’d given her on her first night wound down around the statue and the stand itself. Somehow, she’d turned the crappy little place into a home.

“It is. And, we got your message. You’ve found a job?”

“Yeah. Over at the used bookstore on Guadalupe. Pay isn’t great, but it’ll cover the bills. The owner was glad to find someone who actually knows books, so there’s a chance I can do more than work the register.”

“Sounds good.” Marshall smiled. His eyes fell on the counter and the spread of photographs. There was only so much they could take away from Sara, and as she’d never made a living as a photographer, he hadn’t put any kind of restriction on her work. Looking at the images before him, he realized just how talented she was. He held up one of the Sunshine Building, captured at sunset, the faded red brick suddenly brought back to life in one last glimpse of the dying light. “These are great.”

“Thanks.” She shrugged. “It keeps my hands busy.”

Mary cleared her throat and Marshall suddenly remembered she was there. How had he forgotten? He turned and his partner stood there, a tense smile on her face. She crossed her arms and tilted her head and Marshall cleared his throat and stepped away from Sara. When had he stepped so close? “When do you start?”

“Um … Monday.” Sara shrugged.

“I’ll let you know how it’s going.”

“We’ll see you next week.” Marshall offered her a smile and then followed Mary out the door.

He was in deep.

***

“I don’t get what’s so interesting anyway.”

They were sitting on the balcony of the Sunshine Building, lunch between them. Mary was stealing his French fries and Marshall picked absently at his own burger. The bun and lettuce were in a million pieces, all happily picked up by the starlings that darted around their legs. It occurred to him that Mary was speaking. “What?”

“What. Yeah. Forensics. I mean, the point of crime solving is to deal with perps not test tubes.”

“Our forensic team has saved our asses more times than I care to count.” He didn’t expect Mary to understand. He was, however, surprised at her harping on the past life of their current high priority witness. She was better than any of them at putting history aside – save for the occasional con man – and giving people that second chance. It was what made her such a great witsec officer. “Why?”

“Because I’m wondering why you’re still going to see a certain former forensic physicist once a week. By now, she’s okay to see once a month. I mean, she’s got a job, and a …” She paused long enough to shove another French fry in her mouth. “What the hell does a forensic physicist do anyway?”

“As I understood it, her skill was analysis of trace materials and the physical properties of how they react in different environments.”

“English please, Marshall?”

“She dealt with the details. The tiniest of details. And she was damned good with a car.”

“And you know all of this how?”

The tone of her voice changed. She was smirking and waggling her eyebrows at him and he knew he was busted. Completely busted. He wasn’t sure what gave him away, but with Mary, it could have been anything.

“Mare …”

“No, it’s okay. She’s totally hot, Marshall. Believe me … she makes me think twice about women.”

He chuckled and shook his head. There was a part of him that wished he was still in love with his partner. But that crush had faded long ago, leaving him with a deeper love than simply romantic for Mary. Part of his protectiveness came from his desire to see her get away from the cowboys who were no good for her. Men like Raphael were toys, nothing more. She was desperately unhappy in her relationship, but there was a part of her that didn’t think she deserved better. Marshall also knew better than to push her. The harder he did, the more she’d run to Raphael.

“It’s more than that.”

“You can’t save her, Marshall.”

“I don’t want to save her. What fascinates me, Mary …” he snagged his last French fry. “She’s already saved herself and if we weren’t in the position we’re in … I could fall in love with her. She’s smart. She’s ready to learn new things. She understands how to listen and change.”

Mary stopped picking at his food and stared at him. Marshall shrugged, grabbed his food wrappers, and headed back inside.

***

  
Her hair was held back with turquoise barrettes. A leather chord with a hematite pendant wrapped around her neck. On her long fingers, two silver rings. She was dressed in comfortable looking jeans and a black baby-doll cut t-shirt that advertised the bookstore.

She was beautiful. She was poetry in motion. Art come to life. She was every cliché he could think of and he didn’t care.

“Hi.” Sara flashed a smile and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

He still got butterflies when he had to meet with her. The last six months, he’d kept it professional, refusing to do more than a quick check in with her. The further the distance, the easier it was to keep his head. Today the plan was to meet at the small mom and pop bookstore where she’d taken up a position as manager. The owner gave her the run of the inventory and even let her sell some of her photographs. Unbeknownst to her, he’d bought one when she hadn’t been there one day. It had a place in his kitchen, on the wall over the table. He was there to approve the paperwork on the rental of her house; it was a rent-to-own deal, a small bungalow near Old Town. Not too far from his own home, actually.

“Marshall!” She beamed as he stepped through the door and Mary only smirked at him. Were his feelings that evident? He ignored her.

“Hi, Sara. Do you have those papers?” Keep it short and sweet, he repeated over and over and over to himself. But she was humming to herself and her hair caught a bit of a draft and brushed across her cheek and he wanted to tuck the lock back behind her ear. Quickly, he sat at one of the small tables. Sara brought over coffee for both him and Mary.

“Here you go,” she handed over the lease and settled at the table. Marshall glanced through the documents, checking the bank and the realtor credentials. Sara had done her homework before she ever put pen to paper on the contract and he had everything he needed. If only all witnesses were as through. She must have been a favorite at the lab in Vegas.

“Everything looks good.” He smiled and forgot Mary was even there. “How are you doing?”

“All right.” She shrugged and he recognized the look in her eyes. She had a life, but it wasn’t really her life yet. But at least she was adapting. Like all good foster children. It only made him want to give up his life and run away with her. They could spend a lifetime around the world, only with each other. Sara started to say something more, but a customer came to the register and she slipped back into her work persona.

Mary just stared at him after Sara had stepped away. “Marshal!”

He knew he had to get his head out of his ass. But Sara …

“You need to let someone else take over her case.”

“Mary,” he tried to argue, “I’m the senior officer. It’s my job to monitor her.”

“Seriously, Marshall. Make Stan do it. Before you get into something you can’t get out of.”

“Mary,” he sighed as they stood, “I’m already there.”

_TBC …_


End file.
